What Sam Doesn't Know
by hattalove
Summary: So yeah, Sam's only been with the Hudmels for about two weeks now, but he's learning to love them very fast. Mind you, it would be a lot easier if they didn't keep secrets from him. Puckurt. Sam's POV.


There are many interesting things about Sam Evans. In fact, sometimes, when he's feeling exceptionally proud, he'd say he's one of the most interesting people he knows. He might be a bit biased, of course.

For example, Sam Evans has three families.

Weird, huh?

There's, of course, the family that Sam was born into – his mother and father, and later Stevie and Rebecca – they stick with each other through thick and thin and support each other in everything they do, even with the trouble they'd been having for the past few months. Sam loves them more than anything in the world.

Then there's the family he'd never known he could gain – eleven outsiders in a school he'd been completely new to, singing a song about New York with stars in their eyes, ignored by all the bystanders. He'd felt at home in the choir room the very first time he'd been there, singing Billionare with Puck and Artie and Finn and Mike. It only intensified once he'd decided to actually go after what he wanted and asked if he could join – after he'd gotten to know the rest of the people – Kurt and his fabulousness, Santana and her attitude, and, well, Mercedes, but that's a different story. He loves them all, too.

And then, quite unexpectedly, there's the family he just became a part of; the Hummel-Hudsons. Frankly, Sam had no idea what to expect when he walked over the threshold of the nice two-story house – it certainly wasn't Finn's mom, Carole, hugging him and fawning over him and force-feeding him delicious tuna casserole after less than five minutes that he'd spent inside. He hadn't expected Mr.H – he's not supposed to call him Burt yet, Carole says, but they always glare at each other after that, so it's probably a question of one or two days – to come out of the kitchen looking like an agent on a mission, shake his hand with a strong grip and a half-growl of "Welcome, son".

Of course, he'd known Finn and Kurt before he came to live with them, but they were a surprise, too – they way they acted around each other at home left him staring the first evening. Finn had taken up the whole couch with his giant limbs, and when Kurt padded into the living room – in a t-shirt and sweatpants, which was already a shock – he frowned, then _pouted_, then nudged his brother with his foot. There was no movement, and after about five seconds of waiting, Kurt just plopped down on Finn's lap.

And, you know, it's not like Sam's homophobic, but he'd expected the bigger boy to show at least some kind of reaction – instead, he just reached out a hand to steady Kurt and kept his eyes on the TV.

So yeah, Sam's only been with them for about two weeks now, but he's learning to love them very fast. Mind you, it would be a lot easier if they didn't keep secrets from him.

* * *

"Sam, dude. Good to have you back," is what Puck says the first time they crash in the Hudmels' kitchen. There's a sort of pleased half-smile on his face as he works open a bag of frozen vegetables and spills the contents out into a pan; he looks completely at home, like he's done this a million times.

Then again, Puck and Finn are best friends (again, finally), and it only makes sense for Puck to be around a lot.

So Sam just smiles, replies with a "Thanks, man" and walks over to the fridge, pulling out a soda and pouring himself a glass.

He marvels, just for a second, about the way nobody seems to think there's anything unusual about Puck making dinner – not Finn, walking in, snatching the soda bottle and taking a drink (after checking for any signs of his brother, who spent about ten minutes yelling at him the day before because he didn't use a glass). Not Mr.H, who just quirks a smile at both of them when he sticks his head into the kitchen, just home from work. And especially not Carole, who arrives a few minutes after her husband, sets two grocery bags on the kitchen table, walks over to Puck and kisses him on the temple with a "Thank you, Noah dear".

Well, Sam's only been here for a day, and the only thing he's certain about is that the Hudmels are no ordinary family – he's sure he's in for a lot more surprises.

* * *

The moment Sam really starts to wonder occurs a week later, when the whole glee club is invited over to get ready for Sectionals. They're sprawled all over the living room floor, laughing and talking and playing stupid games Rachel came up with. Burt passes outside the door occasionally, reminding them to "Be good, kids" and Carole runs in from the kitchen approximately every twenty minutes, eyes sparkling as she empties a new tray of cookies into one of the bowls they set out on the table. It feels great – after realizing how far away from his (first) family he actually is, it's definitely the highlight of Sam's week.

When most of them leave, and there's only Sam, Finn, Kurt and Puck left, Sam moves automatically when Carole shouts "Please help me clean up, boys!". He doesn't think much when Puck stands up with them and starts picking up plates and glasses, or when he sets them in the sink with an accomplished smirk.

No, what makes Sam wonder is what happens afterwards. There's a piece of paper titled 'Temporary Dishwashing Duties' on the fridge, since the dishwasher broke two days before, and Puck takes a look at it before sighing and grabbing a hold of a pair of rubber gloves. Carole and Finn both trickle out of the kitchen while Kurt stays behind, taking a rag and leaning back against the counter, waiting for the first wet plate to land in his hands.

Sam gets a feeling he's intruding on something, and he slowly retreats back into the guest room that is now his – but not before sneaking another glance at the dishwashing duty list. He wonders how he'd never noticed the '_Noah_', written in several times in Carole's neat script.

When he's lying in his bed later that night, after a call to his parents and siblings, trying to empty his head, he stops and thinks about it. By now, it's pretty clear Puck is almost like a family member; at the very least, Burt and Carole both treat him as a son. There shouldn't be anything weird about him sticking around after everyone else leaves, cooking dinner, washing the dishes – still, Sam thought Puck has his own house, his own family, and while he is Finn's best friend, Sam doesn't really see why would he put so much effort into becoming a part of this one, too. Who would want to do additional chores when they don't have to, right?

Although, Sam thinks, maybe it's just a Jewish thing.

* * *

It isn't.

And, as probably anybody can imagine, two weeks into his stay, Sam is getting confused big time.

It's not that he doesn't like Puck – of course he does, the guy's honest, a good guitar player, and sticks up for the glee club. It's just – walking into the kitchen early on a Saturday morning and seeing him there, sipping coffee, reading the paper and looking awfully chipper, Sam is tempted to ask him to just get out of his sight.

But then Puck looks up, grins and greets him with a silly little wave, eyes sparkling, and Sam's too nice to ruin him when he's looking so happy.

It doesn't occur to him he should probably have asked what exactly was Puck doing there at seven am. When it does, he basically kidnaps the first involved person he can find – Finn, as luck would have it – and sits him down in the living room.

"Dude," he starts, ignoring the terrified look on Finn's face, "what is going on with Puck?"

"What should be going on?" Finn says and frowns.

"It's just—he's over here all the time. And he cooks dinner, and washes the dishes, and he was in the kitchen yesterday morning, which means he slept over. Is he in trouble with his mom or something?"

The range of emotions that take turns on Finn's face is fascinating. He goes from confused, to terrified, to panicked and back to terrified. A blush rises up on his cheeks and he sputters for a few seconds.

"There isn't—his mom's fine, Sam. Everything's fine. We're all fine. There's no reason to be concerned. Can I go now?"

"Finn, come on. I'm just…confused, I guess. I mean, I know you guys are friends, but this looks like more than that to me."

Finn vehemently shakes his head. "No, no, dude, it's all fine. He just—likes to help, alright?"

And then he's gone. To say that Sam feels a lot less assured would be a giant understatement.

* * *

To Sam's infinite relief, and also shock, everything becomes clear the night after they've won Sectionals. He's riding in the car with Finn, Kurt and Puck, all of them singing along to Neil Young on the radio, and the endorphin levels are running high.

They pull up next to the Hudmels' house, basically running inside, Finn and Kurt tackling their parents and shouting over each other. It lasts for about twenty minutes – then they're ordered to go to bed and get some strength to continue the celebrations tomorrow. Sam _is_ pretty tired, and he bids them all goodnight with a yawn, completely missing the stern glare Mr.H is sending Puck when they all stomp up the stairs and to their rooms.

Except two hours later, it turns out that despite his brain having shut down a long time ago, the excitement is thrumming in Sam's veins too bright to let him sleep. He pads down to the kitchen for a glass of water and maybe a midnight snack, and walks by the living room, glancing inside and passing without a second thought.

He has to stop, back up a few steps and remind himself he's not sleeping about three seconds later.

Kurt and Puck are there – which, okay, not really that unusual. They're pretty good friends these days.

Except they're not talking, each on the opposite end of the couch, or playing videogames, or watching a movie. The TV is on on the Discovery Channel, and Puck's arms are wrapped firm around Kurt, who's sitting in the other boys' lap, eyes closed and face relaxed like Sam's never seen it. They utter a few words here and there, and Sam is left standing frozen in the doorway.

He knows what he's witnessing, and he somehow can't process it. Puck and Kurt are – well, cuddling on the couch, and oh God, _kissing_, and basically whispering into each other's ears. They're together. Somehow. And also not only having sex.

And, the thing is, Sam wants to leave them alone, he does, because they look strangely beautiful together – and everybody deserves a moment, especially when they have to hide, like Puck and Kurt apparently are.

Except right when he's turning around to tiptoe into the kitchen and then back into his room, an umbrella stand that hadn't been there just a minute ago somehow tangles with his feet and he's crashing to the ground. He can almost hear the two of them freeze in the living room.

"S'okay, jus' me," he rasps out, trying to regain his breathing and pick himself up off the ground. When he finally manages and turns around, he's met with Puck's glare, so angry and threatening it could probably kill him on the spot.

"Is he freaking out yet?" Sam hears Kurt mumble somewhere into Puck's neck, sees the jock's arms tighten even more, and for some reason, it just makes him really, really sad.

"M'not gonna freak out. At least not until you tell me how you'd managed to tame the Puckzilla."

Puck's glare vanishes, leaving a surprisingly vulnerable look in its wake. He looks so grateful it makes Sam wonder how long has this been going on and how much crap have they already had to take.

"You can turn around, Kurt," Sam says.

Kurt lets out a hiccupping laugh, but his face stays firmly planted into Puck's chest, brown strands of hair sticking up everywhere.

"I can't. I'm wearing my pajamas."

And, Sam thinks, that's fair enough. He salutes Puck, gets his glass of water in the kitchen, and finds a stealthy way to hug both of them the following morning.


End file.
